knew, or to that of the wild yet kindly elements. They made me think of a
host of beings from another plane of life, another evolution altogether,
perhaps, all discussing a mystery known only to themselves. I watched them
moving busily together, oddly shaking their big bushy heads, twirling their
myriad leaves even when there was no wind. They moved of their own will as
though alive, and they touched, by some incalculable method, my own keen
sense of the horrible.

There they stood in the moonlight, like a vast army surrounding our camp,
shaking their innumerable silver spears defiantly, formed all ready for an
attack.

The psychology of places, for some imaginations at least, is very vivid;
for the wanderer, especially, camps have their "note" either of welcome or
rejection. At first it may not always be apparent, because the busy
preparations of tent and cooking prevent, but with the first pause--after
supper usually--it comes and announces itself. And the note of this
willow-camp now became unmistakably plain to me; we were interlopers,
trespassers; we were not welcomed. The sense of unfamiliarity grew upon me
as I stood there watching. We touched the frontier of a region where our
presence was resented. For a night's lodging we might perhaps be tolerated;
but for a prolonged and inquisitive stay--No! by all the gods of the trees
and wilderness, no! We were the first human influences upon this island,
and we were not wanted. The willows were against us.

Strange thoughts like these, bizarre fancies, borne I know not whence,
found lodgment in my mind as I stood listening. What, I thought, if, after
all, these crouching willows proved to be alive; if suddenly they should
rise up, like a swarm of living creatures, marshaled by the gods whose
territory we had invaded, sweep towards us off the vast swamps, booming